


Real

by kirargent



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 18:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2399165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirargent/pseuds/kirargent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Uh-uh,” Lydia says, flinging open the closet doors. “You—” she says, flipping through horrendously disorganized shirts and skirts and dresses, “are going to stop moping, put on a dress, and come to dinner with me.”</p><p>Allison raises her eyebrows. “Just like that?”</p><p>Lydia nods, spinning around with a dress in her hand and a smile on her lips. “Just like that.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real

**Author's Note:**

> [hedderstheowl](hedderstheowl.tumblr.com) asked: could you an allydia fake!relationship au? it's totally my fave fic trope :3
> 
> please be nice to me, I've never written teen wolf fic before!

_Fantastic_ , Lydia thinks.  _Excellent_. Just when she's coming to terms with her status as Girl Who Predicts Death, the universe throws the other least-normal aspect of herself right in her face.

Okay, well. Technically not the universe. Technically it's Scott Mccall.

“I'm sorry,” Lydia says, smiling the brightest of her false smiles. “I must have something in my ear. I'm sure you didn't just say what I think you did.”

“I need you to pretend to date Allison,” Scott repeats.

Lydia raises her eyebrows.

Looking apologetic, Scott ducks his head, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I'm sorry, Lydia. It's a weird thing to ask, I know.” He hesitates a moment, looking at a loss. Then he shakes his head, lifting his eyes to meet hers. “But I don't know what else to do. I know she can handle herself, but...it's my fault she's such a target, you know? I thought everyone would stop going after her once we broke up for good, but...nobody seems to get it that it's real this time. We're really over.”

If you ask Lydia, he looks like he doesn't quite get it, either. She reaches out a sympathetic hand and gives him an awkward pat on the shoulder, and he smiles at her. All about sentiment and trying your best, that Scott Mccall.

“Please, Lydia? You know I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was important.”

There is just something about those earnest eyes that makes it really freaking hard to say no. Maybe it's all that damn altruism of his. In any case, Lydia finds herself sighing, shaking her head, and saying, “All right. If you really think this is necessary.”

Scott nods. “I really do.”

“Well,” Lydia says brightly, “then you came to the right girl. If anyone can convince a world full of monsters that Allison Argent has moved on, it's me.” She readjusts her backpack, flips her curled hair over her shoulder, and sets off to plan a fake date with the best friend she's been low-level crushing on since the day they met.

—

“Allison!” Lydia calls as soon as she's in the door of the Argents' house. “I want your closet open by the time I get up there! We've gotta find you something cute!”

Allison, not entirely to Lydia's surprise, does not, in fact, have her closet open by the time Lydia reaches her room. Instead, she's cross-legged on her bed, buried in a book.

“Hey,” Lydia says, efficient and commanding. “Come on. Didn't you hear me? We're going out. It's an official date.”

When she looks up, Allison's twisting her lip between her teeth. “Lydia...”

“Uh-uh,” Lydia says, flinging open the closet doors. “You—” she says, flipping through horrendously disorganized shirts and skirts and dresses, “are going to stop moping, put on a dress, and come to dinner with me.”

Allison raises her eyebrows. “Just like that?”

Lydia nods, spinning around with a dress in her hand and a smile on her lips. “Just like that.”

—

So, Allison's still stuck on Scott, even though it was a mutual thing.

“We're both just too intense,” she told Lydia after they broke up. “We're too different and too stubborn, and no matter how much we wanted it to work, it just...didn't. Well, it could've, but neither of us would've been happy.”

Lydia remembers that they were sitting on Allison's bed, and that she stroked her hand through Allison's hair to comfort her. Lydia remembers being jealous of the intensity of Allison's feelings for Scott.

Now, she's jealous that Allison's clearly still distracted, even if she's doing better than she has been for weeks. They're on a date, for heaven's sake.

Oh, she laughs at Lydia's jokes, and she smiles with more ease than Lydia's seen in a while, and she even eats all her dinner, but she's not...really  _there_.

Still, Lydia drives them home and walks her to the door, and they pretend like the Agent house hasn't had its door open to Lydia since the day Allison moved in. They stand on the doorstep, each smiling a little. It's gotten late, and everything is in pleasant shadow. It feels like they're hidden away from the world, from the monsters, from everything.

“I had a nice time tonight,” Lydia says, smiling a cheesy smile.

Allison laughs a little. “Me, too,” she admits. But then her smile fades, and she bites her lip. “Um,” she says. Lydia can see that she's twisting her hands together in front of herself. “I'm sorry. For being distracted, and everything. I really did have a nice time.”

Lydia forces her smile as bright and reassuring as it can go, gives Allison a little nudge on the arm, and says, “Don't worry. You can try again on Friday.”

Allison's smile returns, teeth white in the darkness, and Lydia's own smile gains more authenticity, and she almost, almost leans up to kiss Allison's cheek.

Instead, she just waves a little, turns, and takes comfort in the hollow, satisfying sounds of her heels hitting the pavement.  _Don't worry_ , she thinks to herself, smiling a little,  _you can try again on Friday._

_—_

Thursday morning at school, Lydia leans against the locker next to Allison's while Allison retrieves her books, and grabs Allison's hand to lace their fingers together on the walk to class. When Allison gives her a small, private smile, it's not distracted at all.

Lydia's heart thumps hard in her throat the whole way to class.

—

They hang out Thursday afternoon, and Lydia's not sure if it should count as a "second date" or not, and she's not sure what their boundaries are, and it should be weird, but it's...not.

Really, the differences are minimal. Maybe Lydia doesn't bother pretending not to stare at Allison, and maybe Allison ducks her head and bites her lip with a little more frequency than Lydia's used to from her brave, unshakable friend—but fundamentally, nothing has changed at all.

It's nice. Lydia likes it, even if it is only for show.

Even Allison doesn't seem quite as mopey.

—

They go out for the second official time Friday night. Lydia takes Allison to a party thrown by some junior that doesn't deserve their presence, but she wants to dance with Allison, and her options are limited.

Their hands lock often as they dance; their eyes hardly ever leave each other. Allison wouldn't put on a dress, but she's wearing proper makeup again finally, and she's beautiful. She's beautiful without it too, of course, but Lydia's glad to see her happy enough to bother with her appearance. And really, Lydia's not planning to complain about the dress, either; not when those close-fitting black pants replace it.

Allison's smile barely dips once the whole night, and her laughter is free and happy, and when she shimmies jokingly against Lydia, Lydia feels like her nerve endings are on fire and like her heart has stopped inside her chest.

When she kisses Allison's cheek that night on the doorstep, Allison pulls her in by the back of the neck and kisses her on the mouth.

—

A week passes. Two.

Lydia's made a habit of walking down school hallways with her fingers woven through Allison's; Allison's cheeriness has returned to the point that she sometimes swings their hands idly between them.

Lydia doesn't have to monitor how often she plays with Allison's silky, bouncy hair. Allison, for her part, has adopted a habit of braiding Lydia's hair while she studies.

Of course, non-conventional dating practices are included in their new-formed patterns as well. Lydia is now invited along every time Allison goes to shoot in the woods; although, her shooting sessions often turn into laughter-ridden races through the trees or long hours spent side by side on their backs, fingers hooked together between them, staring up at the sky. Allison's already promised to teach her how to shoot a bow, and she can hardly wait.

—

They're both sitting on Allison's bed, Allison cross-legged with a history book in her lap, Lydia with her knees tucked to her side with her fingers in Allison's hair, when Lydia says, “Hey, Allison?”

Allison gives a quiet hum to let Lydia know she's listening.

“I know this whole thing started under...special circumstances—but I really do like you, you know?”

“Mm. I like you, too,” Allison admits easily. Lydia's heart stutters; she couldn't force her smile away if she tried. This, this  _giddiness_  is uncharacteristic for her—the cool, controlled queen—but she finds she really can't bring herself to care.

A few moments pass in quiet. It's nice in Allison's room. Peaceful. It feels like a little haven just for them, now even more than before.

“I've been wondering,” Lydia says eventually, her voice breaking the easy silence. “What on Earth did Scott say to get you to agree to this?”

For a moment, Allison doesn't answer. Then she half turns to face Lydia. There's a frown on her face. “What are you talking about?” she asks slowly.

Lydia's hands freeze in Allison's hair; slowly, she places them in her lap. “What do you mean, what am I talking about?”

“I mean, what are you talking about, Lydia?” A faint undercurrent of agitation has infiltrated Allison's voice. “What was Scott supposed to tell me? What 'this' are you talking about?”

“I mean,” Lydia says, faltering. She gestures between the two of them. “ _This_.”

Allison's face is a war between confusion and growing apprehension. “Lydia,” she says firmly. “Tell me what the hell is going on.”

How has this derailed so quickly?

“You—I—Allison, Scott asked me to pretend to date you so all those creatures targeting the Alpha would leave you alone.” Lydia watches Allison's face worriedly. “You didn't...you didn't know that?”

“Of course I didn't!” Allison says. “You think I would've agreed to that?”

“I did wonder how Scott managed to convince you,” Lydia admits. “I was surprised you didn't kill him.”

“Oh, I'm  _gonna_  kill him,” Allison grumbles. She stews for just a few seconds before her face clears. Hesitation overtakes her expression. “So that means...none of this was real?”

Lydia sighs dramatically. She arranges her face into a soft smile. “Allison, I was just telling you that my feelings for you are real, regardless of the situation.”

“Oh,” Allison says. She looks like she's having a little trouble taking everything in. “So you don't...you don't want to...stop, then.”

“Please. Allison, I've liked you for ages. Honestly, we should probably be thanking Scott for the kick in the ass.”

“Oh,” Allison says again; but this time, the little smile blooming on her lips is audible in her voice.

“Yes, 'oh.' Now, will you get back to your homework, please? There's a party I wanna take you to tonight," Lydia says. Her tone is no-nonsense, but her insides have turned to pure bubbly happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> [on tumblr](http://hauntedkira.tumblr.com/post/99090399166/hedderstheowl-asked-could-you-an-allydia)


End file.
